


Doesn't Realise They've Been Hurt.

by Whump-with-wren (Spannah339)



Category: Iron Fist (TV)
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Blood, Gen, doesn't realise they've been hurt, gun shot wound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 17:37:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20697419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spannah339/pseuds/Whump-with-wren
Summary: Another for my Bad Things Happen Bingo list! This time, Danny doesn't realise he's been hurt, and Ward has to look after him.





	Doesn't Realise They've Been Hurt.

It had all started off so well. But really, Ward thought, most of their misadventures over the past few months could be summed up like that. It had started off so well, and then someone drew a gun. Or decided to go all ninja on them. Or pulled out some magic he couldn’t even begin to understand. Whatever the case, he wasn’t hugely surprised to find himself pinned down behind a pile of boxes in an- what they had thought was - empty warehouse, the former ‘drawing a gun’ option having happened this time around. 

Danny grinned at him from a pile of boxes nearby, and Ward returned the gesture with a glare. Unphased, Danny motioned for Ward to stay down, and then like the damned idiot he was, popped his head over the cover to take in the scene. Ward closed his eyes and leaned his head against the box, wondering once again how he had let Danny talk him into doing this. 

A sudden flurry of gunfire snapped his eyes open just in time to see Danny slide behind cover beside him, having sprinted the gap between their boxes. Ward made sure he hadn’t been hurt, then glared at him. 

“You’re an idiot,” he muttered. Danny’s grin only widened. 

“There’s a door in that direction,” he said, gesturing slightly. Ward couldn’t see it over the boxes, but he trusted Danny and nodded. “No one is between us and it, but they’re beginning to flank us. We have to run, and soon.” Again, Ward nodded - Danny was much better in these situations than he was, and he had long ago learned it was better to just do as he was told until they were safe. 

Danny risked another glance, earning a bullet past his ear, and ducked down again. 

“Ready?” he asked, and once again Ward found himself nodding. Danny counted down on his fingers. 

An instant later, they were sprinting across the warehouse, low to the ground, Ward close behind Danny. Their attackers were taken by surprise, which gave them a chance to get almost halfway to the door before the gunfire began again. Danny rapidly took down the one man in their way, and they burst out the door. 

For a moment, Ward thought they were home free, that they had made it without any trouble. Then pain exploded in his shoulder and he cried out, stumbling forward. Danny was beside him almost instantly, supporting him, shouting something. 

The world was spinning as his shoulder throbbed. He was vaguely aware of Danny half carrying him through the streets, of his feet stumbling beneath him, his head spinning, his shoulder sending pain bursting through him. 

Finally, they stopped and Ward felt himself lowered onto a low bench. He grimaced, his senses slowly coming back to him. 

“Ow,” he muttered, wrapping a hand around his shoulder. It came away wet with blood. Danny was looking at him with concern. 

“Let me look,” he said, and Ward didn’t resist as he shifted, turning so Danny could take a look at the wound. “It’s not as bad as I thought,” he said after a moment. “It just nicked you.” 

“Still hurts,” Ward growled. Danny grinned, holding out a hand, speckled with Ward’s blood. Ward took it, wincing as he did and let Danny pull him to his feet. 

It was then that he noticed that Danny’s hands weren’t the only bloody part of him - a large stain was smeared across his shirt. Ward frowned, watching as Danny began to move, saying something about going back to the hotel. He was limping - more so than usual. 

“You okay?” he asked, holding his wounded arm to his chest in an effort to relieve the pain. It didn’t help much. Danny glanced back at him. 

“I’m fine,” he said, seeming surprised by the question. 

“You’re covered in blood.” 

Danny glanced down, frowning slightly. 

“I - I don’t think it’s mine,” he said, but his voice was weak and Ward wasn’t so sure. 

“Let me look,” he said shortly and without giving Danny a chance to protest, pulled the younger man’s shirt up to look at the wound. The sight that greeted him made him curse. 

Danny glanced down, pressing a hand to his side. The colour drained from his face. 

“Oh,” he whispered, suddenly swaying. 

Ignoring his own pain for the moment, Ward moved forward to catch Danny before he collapsed - an event that looked like it would happen at any moment. Danny didn’t resist. Ward suspected he’d been running on adrenalin alone for the past few minutes. 

“Sit,” he growled, lowering Danny to the bench he had just vacated. The wound on Danny’s side was worrying - it had to be treated now, or he would lose a lot of blood. As Ward tugged off his jacket and began ripping his shirt into rough bandages, he glared at Danny. “How the _hell _did you not noticed getting _shot_?” he demanded.

Danny shrugged, one hand pressed firmly to his side. There was a lot of blood and Ward was feeling very out of his depth. 

(The part of him that wasn’t preoccupied with helping Danny or his own pain marvelled that in only a few years he had gone from a scared addict, trapped under his father’s control to this - patching up his bleeding brother in an empty street in some city halfway across the world. He couldn’t help but wonder at how it had happened at all)

“I had to get you to safety,” Danny muttered, answering his question. Ward snorted, doing his best to bandage Danny’s wound. 

“You’re an idiot,” he responded and Danny gave a small chuckle, which Ward decided was a good sign, even though it was cut off by a groan of pain. Satisfied his crude bandage would last enough to get them back to the hotel and the first aid kit in their room he quickly fashioned a bandage for his own shoulder. He wasn’t sure how much good it would actually do, but the placebo effect was a thing, right?

“You okay to move?” he asked. Danny nodded, pushing himself up, then hissed in pain and sank back down again. “Danny, we have to keep moving.” 

“I know,” Danny said, but he didn’t go to move again, and his eyes were closed. Ward crouched before him, laying a hand on his shoulder. 

“Danny,” he said, gently squeezing until Danny opened his eyes again. They were sharp with pain, but at least they were open. “We have to keep moving, okay?”

“I - I know,” Danny said shakily. “I’ll be up in a minute, just let me catch my breath.” 

Ward glanced back in the direction they had come, worry curling tightly in his chest. They couldn’t have got far from the warehouse, and he knew it was only a matter of time before their pursuers caught up with them. Besides that, he was growing increasingly worried about Danny’s condition - his shirt was soaked with blood, and the bandages were reddening very quickly. They couldn’t afford to let Danny catch his breath. 

“Up you get,” he grunted, pulling Danny up as he spoke. Danny swayed slightly, leaning heavily on Ward’s shoulder and not resisting. “Stay with me, alright?” 

Danny nodded, letting out a long breath. 

“I’m okay, I just… need a breather.” 

“You can have one when we get back to the hotel, we can’t stick around here.” He began moving, Danny slumped over his good shoulder, wishing he had brought his gun. 

They stumbled through the streets, Danny leaning more on Ward as they continued. Finally, as they began to enter more populated areas, Ward paused, glancing down at him. 

“We need to get you to a hospital,” he said, hesitantly. Danny was in bad shape. But he shook his head weakly, looking up through pain dulled eyes. 

“No,” he muttered. “They’ll be waiting.” 

Ward cursed. Of course - the group who had attacked them practically owned the town. They would have men watching the hospital, waiting to see if he and Danny showed up asking for help. And if they did - well, Danny was in no shape to fight anyone, and Ward still didn’t have his gun. 

“Hotel,” Danny muttered, slumping forward again. His hair was sticking to his forehead, his breaths shallow and weak. Ward was growing increasingly worried. 

“Danny, I - I don’t…” he sucked in a breath, glancing around the street. There were few people out at the late evening hour, those who were paying them no heed. “Maybe it’s worth the risk.” 

“No,” Danny said, his voice more forceful than Ward had expected. He shifted, lifting his head again and fixing Ward with a sharp look. “Not worth it. They’ll,” he shut his eyes, groaning, pressing a hand to his wound. “... kill you,” he muttered, leaning his weight back into Ward’s shoulder. 

_“Maybe it is worth it_,” Ward thought again. “_Even if they do kill me, you might get the help you need. I’m the reason you got hurt in the first place_.” He didn’t say anything - wasn’t sure Danny would even hear him if he did. 

By the time they made it back to the hotel, Danny was barely responsive. Ward hurried through the building to their room, slipping a few bills in the direction of anyone who saw them. Once inside, he sat Danny on one of the beds. The younger man swayed as he sat, but he didn’t collapse, which Ward took as a good sign. 

He hurried to his bag, digging through it to pull out the first-aid kit. Then, with a combination of his limited knowledge and the dubious usefulness of the internet, he set to work. 

It took him almost an hour, but eventually, Danny was sleeping, pale but alive. Ward sank into a chair, running a hand through his hair before he realised he was smearing blood everywhere. He dropped his hands, exhausted, hissing as he moved his shoulder. 

“Damnit Danny,” he muttered. “Stop doing that to me. Stop scaring me.” 

But the worst had passed now - Ward was sure of that. Danny needed sleep, and time to recover. And, Ward thought as he picked up the gun he had left in his bag, he would get that. 

He looked back at Danny, at the peaceful look that had come over his face. He was resting - he was _recovering _\- and Ward let out a long sigh, trusting that Danny would be alright. 

“You’re an idiot,” he said softly.


End file.
